Another bunker

(DISCLAIMER: As an overall nice human being, I do not force entry, vandalize, steal, or disclose means of entry or location if it isn't obvious. I do this to protect locations and respect them. Trespass without forced entry is a civil offence rather than a criminal one, which isn't worth acting on unless one causes damage, steals, has ill intent, etc. I simply photograph and leave everything as I find it. I do not condone breaking and entering, and I do not condone what I do. I'm a danger to myself and a terrible role model. )

 Scattered about the UK are roughly 1,563 trap doors that the average human being will stroll past without thinking anything of. Some are flat out demolished. Many are padlocked or welded shut, but a few are still open to anyone silly enough to trust a fifteen foot long rusty metal ladder that hasn't had any maintenance since the 1960s. Am I silly enough? I sure am!

 Nuclear bunkers remain among the more popular of topics on this blog. And why not? They're freakin' awesome! Nuclear monitoring posts, while not often referred to as nuclear bunkers, were subterranean rooms used during the Cold War for, as you can expect from the term "nuclear monitoring post," monitoring nuclear blasts. However they were furnished with beds and toilets, and probably other supplies just in case someone did drop the big one. So as far as I'm concerned, they count as bunkers. Sure, they're no subterranean labyrinth like Drakelow, and living in one in the event of a nuclear strike would probably be Hell, but there's something about them that I absolutely love. 

In Shropshire I've found several. Nesscliffe is the most well known, Church Stretton is the most trashed and with the ladder damaged, the most dangerous. The one I found after that was pristine and untouched. After all, once these were decommissioned nobody wanted to lug all that furniture up a fifteen foot ladder. So unless discovered and vandalised them, of course they'd remain as they were. And it was the discovery of that third one that made me realise that I couldn't just advertise their locations. If you find one, that's cool. I just don't want to be accountable if some kids go in there and can't get out, or a pristine bunker gets vandalised and the landowner gets angry. 

These places are recognisable by both the trap door and also the other surface features.

And quite honestly, I'm far too addicted to this game now to knowingly stand fifteen feet above a small nuclear bunker and not want to take a look.

 So this is the ladder. This particular post was active between 1965 and 1968, and upon being decomissioned, it was just left to rot. So it's fair to say that only someone blissfully unaware of the danger, or able to ignore their survivial instinct and common sense, or someone just delightfully eccentric would attempt to go down here. Especially without any knowledge of the condition of what awaits.

I am commonly regarded as an eccentric, which totally justifies the careless clambering down into the unknown. Being labeled as an eccentric is actually a massive relief to me. I no longer need an excuse if I forget any of the plethora of "rules" that goes into fitting in with the rest of humanity, and as such there's a lot less responsibility, and a lot more freedom to just do as I please. Should I decide tomorrow to paint my entire body green and declare that I'm brocolli, those who know me will just accept it with the same good humour that they accept everything else I say and do. Isn't life great? If you own your weirdness, the world will conform to you!

It's incredibly unlikely a nuclear monitoring post would be open to the public and in good condition, and as I descended into the gloom, I noticed that one of the drains here was clogged and that recent rainfall was accumulating. It wasn't flooded yet, but it easily could be. 

So whats down there? Well, all these posts have a toilet cubicle right by the ladder.

Granted, it's little more than a bucket with a seat, but it's still in better condition than some of the toilets in some pubs and bars. Still, these posts typically had bunk beds which means more than one person was stationed here. Can you imagine being stationed down here, sharing space with someone, and in a hypothetical nuclear blast scenario, having to use this for the foreseeable future, until it was safe to go back to the surface?

So what else is there? Just one room, about twelve feet long and eight feet wide. 

Ah, so this one has three beds! Three people would have been stationed here in this tiny room! Personally though, I'm loving the atmosphere here. The beds are still in functioning condition, and the place really just needs a little TLC. Granted, nuclear weapons have come a long way since this place was decomissioned, and even if it wasn't in a state of disrepair it probably wouldn't protect anyone from a nuclear blast today. It will, however, still protect someone from terrifying things like internet drama and the new Ghostbusters reboot, because down here there's no signal, and even above in the surrounding countryside you'll struggle to get any. I'd camp in one of these for sure, if that movie The Hole didn't keep springing to mind. Not that I can take it at all seriously when Thora Birch types 911 into the phone and gets the emergency services even though the film is set in the UK.

 An oddly new-looking bucket.

 Coat hooks. All the graffiti in here was dated 1998, which makes me think that this place was locked up until around then, when the local kids-at-the-time broke in and made it into their hangout.

 This is the ceiling hole which leads to the tube surface feature, up which a sensor would be placed in order to detect nuclear radiation on the surface. In posts of better condition I have found the circular panels that screw over this vent, presumably to stop nuclear fallout getting in, should a nuclear strike happen. I do wonder what the air supply would be if the vents were barricaded.

 Likewise the vent at the back of the post is a sliding panel. There's a beautiful arachnid taking residence in this bunker, look.

And here are the wires that would have originally connected to all the communications and monitoring equipment that would have been down here. I have yet to find a nuclear monitoring post that still has all the equipment in. But then that probably was removed when the sites closed, due to actually being valuable. The irony of it is that all these posts were connected to their central Headquarters by telegraph pole, and those would have been wiped out in the event of a nuclear blast. It may interest you to know that the HQ is actually in Shrewsbury. Today it's the vet at Abbey Forgate. They wouldn't let me in their subterranean bits though.

In the event of a nuclear blast, could you live in this tiny room with two other people and a bucket for a toilet? If it happened to me, there would be definitely be a fight for the top bunk!

Anyway, thats it for todays blog post! This is actually my 99th blog post, and I honestly never thought when I started this that I'd have this much to talk about, or that I'd ever have this many readers. So thanks. This does mean that my next blog post is my 100th, and it will be something special. There's a place in Shrewsbury that I've wanted to explore ever since I started doing this way back in 2010. And the itch has, at long last, been scratched. And that's next time!

In the meantime, share this blog if you like it. Currently I'm also fundraising for a go-pro so that I can take this blog to Youtube, so any donations will be greatly appreciated. And you can get updates for this blog if you follow me on Twitter and Instagram. But most important, remember to be nice to each other. You're all awesome, unique and amazing people.

I'm looking forward to the next blog post! Thanks for reading!